


Before the Storm

by PocketFullOfProse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Morrigan's ritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11212944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PocketFullOfProse/pseuds/PocketFullOfProse
Summary: It's the eve of the final battle against the archdemon and the darkspawn, but there are other things on Fiona Surana's mind. Did she make the right decision at the landsmeet? Was it wise to trust Morrigan? Will she and Alistair find happily ever after? Such worries make for quite a restless night.





	Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> What I love most about having a silent protagonist in Origins, is that I get to fill in so many blanks in my own mind. There's so much drama in Dragon Age, and I love to fill in the blanks with quiet moments like this.

Pacing nervously in her bedroom, Fiona couldn’t bring herself to spend another minute tossing and turning in bed. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours, but with all that was on her mind, time had all but stopped. White nightgown swishing as she turned to avoid running into the armoire again, she chewed her thumbnail nervously. 

At dawn, they marched to Denerim to face the archdemon. Strangely, that was the least of her worries right now. Sure, confronting an Archdemon and an army of darkspawn was a terrifying thought, but by now, she had become used to fighting. Being in love was an entirely different matter. 

Love was something she had read about in books, something to fantasize about while she had been confined to the circle tower. True, she had become infatuated with a few mages she knew, and even a Templar. Though nothing quite hit her like the feelings she had developed for Alistair. One minute, she felt like a sensible, decent person, the next minute she felt like a selfish fool. 

The landsmeet had been an utter disaster, but she wouldn’t dare admit to anyone she felt that way. Anora was queen, Loghain was dead, and her conscience kept nagging at her for it. Yes, Loghain had done many deplorable things, but surely justice could have been served just as well if she had heeded Riordan’s suggestion. And Anora, yes she had proved to be a capable monarch already, but there was so much more she could do for her people that she simply hadn’t done. Surely Alistair would have been a good king. A king of the people, rather than just a political figurehead.

Despite his protests, making Alistair king would have been the right choice. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Even a shut-in circle mage knew how politics and nobility worked. If Alistair became king, there was no way the two of them could ever be together. Nobody wanted a mage on the throne. That aside, nobody wanted a ‘knife-ear’ on the throne. Despite being respected as a Grey Warden, that would be the furthest that would extend.

The best case scenario left her to rebuild the Grey Wardens of Ferelden on her own, while Alistair was likely matched with some beautiful, human noble. He’d have a duty to his queen and his people to produce an heir. Even if they found ways to meet in secret, to try to keep the flame alive between them, Fiona knew she couldn’t live like that. 

She was so afraid of that happening; she made damn sure he’d never be king. The decision had left her feeling such a strange mix of relief and guilt; she could hardly eat that day. If she had known then what she would do next, she might not have felt nearly as terrible. Damn Morrigan. Damn her and her witch of a mother.

_ Is this really what you want me to do? Are you sure? _ His words rang out in her head over and over, driving her mad. She asked him to trust her, and he did. By the Maker… She didn’t even know if this would work! There wasn’t a single thing that Fiona could think of that would compel Morrigan to make up such a thing, which was the only reason she considered asking Alistair. Oh Maker, but his face when she left him with her. She might as well have sent him to face the archdemon on his own.

The only thing that kept her from completely losing her mind was the hope that Morrigan was right. If-- Maker forbid-- anything happened to Riordan on the battlefield, knowing that one of them had to die… And Alistair, the noble fool, would probably take the task upon himself. There’d be no living with herself if she let that happen either. 

So here she was, agonizing over her life choices and praying fervently to a god she wasn’t even sure existed. If this crazy scheme didn’t work, she might not even care if she got swallowed whole by the archdemon. Alistair was in Morrigan’s clutches and would likely help her conceive a child by the end of the night. She was wildly jealous.

Flushing bright red at the thought of what the two of them were probably still up to now, she couldn’t tell if she was more angry or embarrassed. Thankfully no one could see her like this, and no one but perhaps the other Grey Wardens had to know about this absurd ritual. Maybe not even the other wardens had to know at all! At least these were the things she would tell herself to keep the anxiety from eating away at her entirely.

Finally plopping down on the stone floor in front of the fireplace, she hugged her arms to her stomach and curled in on herself. Why were they taking so long? Surely the two of them would be done by now. She was going to be sick. 

Several more minutes passed while she remained hunched over, desperately trying to keep the little contents of her stomach down. When the creak of iron hinges disturbed the quiet crackle of the fire, she was on her feet in an instant, watching the door anxiously. In came Alistair, beet red and the most flustered she had ever seen the poor man in his life. 

“Well that was…” his voice cracked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “That was horrible.”

Wordlessly, she rushed toward him and threw her arms around him. Cheek pressed to his chest; she noted it was somewhat damp with his nightshirt clinging awkwardly to his body. The familiar scent of one of Wynne’s soaps on him put a bittersweet smile on her face. 

“How many times did you have to scrub yourself before you felt better?” She asked, relieved to feel his strong arms wrap around her in return. 

“At least a dozen!” He exclaimed with a weary laugh. Squeezing him perhaps a bit too tight, she let out a sigh, overjoyed that he came to see her as she had asked. Most of the evening she was afraid that he might not even want to glance her way after what she had asked him to do. 

“I'm so sorry Alistair.” She murmured into his shirt.

The two stood quietly for quite some time, content just to hold one another. There was some hope that this wouldn't be the last time for them. Despite how furious she still was with Morrigan, she just may have to thank her for this one day.

“You know, I think this is the first time I've seen your hair down,” Alistair remarked, breaking their embrace to get a good look at her. Tucking a loose strand behind her pointed ear, the way he gazed at her had her blushing even brighter than before. “You look so beautiful.”

“You’re not still upset with me?” she asked in earnest, her big, brown eyes fixed on his.

“Well despite the fact I’ll probably have nightmares about this for the rest of my life, and the fact I had to touch Morrigan, I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you someday.” he teased, pulling her in for another hug.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.” she muttered, loosely slinging her arms around his waist. 

“That’s what makes me such a good person.” he sniffled melodramatically. 

A wave of relief finally washed over her. At least Alistair was already joking about it. Sliding her thin, delicate fingers between his larger, rougher ones, she pulled him toward the bed without so much as a word. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just trust me.”

“I don’t know. I’m still recovering from the last time you used that line on me.”

“Just get in bed Alistair.”

Wary but obedient, he climbed into bed, watching her with an amused smile as she slid in beside him. Under the covers, sidled up as close to him as she could be, she laid her cheek against his shoulder and snuffed out the bedside candle with a small wave of her hand. With nothing more than the sound of Alistair’s heartbeat and the crackle of the slowly dying fire, she felt at peace.

“Well this is turning out to be less exciting than I thought it would be.” he muttered quietly against the crown of her head.

“Goodnight Alistair.” she chuckled. 


End file.
